“Where’s Alan?” I ask.
“Bryan’s with him. He likes keeping the old man company. Very sweet of him, don’t you think?”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Bryan’s an asshole,” I say, “and he’s probably getting Alan to put money in his fantasy ice hockey league. His main revenue stream these days.”
“Language, Josie Marie.” Her voice cracks like a whip as if I’m ten again. “Alan took care of you. So did Bryan.”
“And now I can take care of myself!” My voice is shrill. Now I sound and feel like a defensive teenager.
“I think you should make a checkup appointment with Dr. Don. Just to be sure.”
My rage kicks up a notch, my pulse gone rogue. Dr. Don, my longtime pediatric oncologist. He was the only one who ever understood my medical maze, so he stayed on as my primary care doctor even after I entered adulthood. I owe him for saving my life multiple times, but I can’t stand the man. Silver hair, round blue eyes like marbled ice. He delivered bad news with the grin of a clown at a child’s birthday party. And then there was his treatment. His “special drink” he called it. Some concoction he’d mix up and serve in a paper cup and watch me swallow “for strength.” Though all it ever did was make me groggy. I hated the taste. Hated him more for making me drink it.
No way. I haven’t seen that guy in years.
“There’s absolutely no reason to book an appointment with Dr. Don.”
I make surprisingly good progress on my eggs and bacon—amazing what a desperation to get out of here can do—and sip the tea without gagging.
This kitchen looks different, I realize. There’s a throw rug under the table, and is that a new coffee machine?
“Should I tell Bryan you’ll call him? It would be nice!” Mom shouts out to me a little while later when I’ve finally escaped the house and am climbing into my car.
“Nope!” I sing back cheerfully. No reason to engage. I’m not going to go ham on my mother for being so fucking clueless.
“Let me at least make an appointment with Dr. Don.”
“Nope!” I sing again in full JosieFightsOn sunshine warmth.
Once I’ve closed my door, I double-check that Bryan is still blocked on my phone. Then I block Dr. Don’s office, too. I feel all the fake goodwill seep from my body as my hands curl into fists.
—
On the drive home, I let it all out, saying every single thing I swallowed back at breakfast. Poor Gertrude’s used to these rants by now. Behind the wheel is one of the few places I can actually drop the whole JosieFightsOn bullshit and just admit that, yeah, everything’s not fine. I’m mid–yelling out loud about my mother—and when will she start treating me like a grown-up?!—when vertigo hits hard and fast. Up flips to down, down to up. My brain feels like Disney’s spinning teacups, only this is real, and I’m in danger.
Are my hands still on the wheel? Why is this happening?
The traffic light ahead blurs into a red halo.
I slam on the brakes, a loud squeal pierces my ears, and I brace for impact.
Twenty-Nine
Axe
I cancel my kickboxing, ditch my afternoon meetings, and hop on my bike. I can’t focus for shite. I don’t even realize where I’m headed until I end up on a quiet, semi-residential street in a part of Shelton I never bother with. Of course.
I push open the door to Grace & Honor, and a bell jingles above me. The air’s fragrant with the scent of lavender and polished wood. Cozy place, shelves crammed with more candles and homemade soaps than any sane person would ever need.
An arrow points to a corner strung up with chili pepper lights—aye, that’ll be the infamous erotic section everyone whispers about. A Snuggle Bunny vibrator stares back at me from the shelf, complete with cheeky bunny ears and a grin to match. I’d be grinning like that, too, if I got to be near Josie every day.
I don’t spot the security system Strike’s company installed, but I trust it’s top-notch. It’ll keep Josie safe, or so I hope. Truth is, there’s no such thing as a truly safe space in this world, not outside my house or Strike’s compound. Still, it’s hard to picture anything bad happening here, buried under all this potpourri and these ribbon-tied bundles of sage.
My heart leaps to see Josie behind the counter, her red curlsfalling forward as she concentrates on the ledger in front of her. When she looks up and sees me, her eyes widen in surprise.
“Axe,” she says, and—Christ. That smile. It takes over her face like sunrise, and then it’s almost immediately replaced by a worried frown. “What are you doing here? Did I miss an appointment?”
“Nah. I just wanted to see how you were since you were feeling poorly yesterday,” I say, stepping closer, keeping my voice easy. “For the record, no body cameras recording. Just us.”
